


Sweet Dreams

by TheAsexualofSpades



Series: Quarantine Drabbles [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Boys In Love, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Sir Leon the Long Suffering, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Whump, he's got the only braincell in camelot let's be real, i love that all of those are tags, it's okay it's not that bad, merlin whump, only a little though, our boy's just a lil tired, so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23362450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/pseuds/TheAsexualofSpades
Summary: Merlin's had his hands full what with being Arthur's servant, Gaius' assistant, the only thing standing between Camelot's future and its destruction by dark magic, so it's understandable that he's a little tired.Surely if he just takes a little break while doing chores for Arthur it'll be fine, right?Arthur won't find out.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Quarantine Drabbles [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677655
Comments: 34
Kudos: 1769
Collections: Numerous OTPS Infinite Fandoms





	Sweet Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> There's so much fluff in here and Arthur's a sweetheart. The man is a puppy I tell you.

Fandom: Merlin (BBC)

Prompt: “Shush and go back to bed.”

* * *

At this point, Merlin figures, he should be used to running on about three hours of sleep. What with running around after assassins, tromping through the woods on errands for Gaius, and making sure no one else tries to murder Arthur, and then performing a full day of duties as Arthur’s servant, there simply aren’t enough hours in a day to do all of it. And yet, he’s having trouble keeping his eyes open long enough to make it upstairs.

“About time you got here, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur drawls from his desk.

“I was out,” he defends, setting the tray down on the table and pouring the goblet.

“At the tavern?”

“No.” _Damn Gaius for always using the same excuse._ “I was out gathering herbs.”

“A wonder, then,” Arthur says, reaching for the food, “that you haven’t gathered the whole damn forest.”

“I wasn’t gone that long.”

Something flickers behind Arthur’s eyes that looks almost like fondness but it’s gone a second later.

“I’ll be training with the knights all morning,” he declares, standing, “I expect my chambers to be cleaned before I return.”

“Oh, well, I’ve got ages then.” Merlin starts helping Arthur into his armor. “You’ve seen how long it takes you lot to get much of anything done.”

“Like you know anything about sparring.”

“I know you use it as an excuse to beat me over the head with a sword.”

“That’s because you’re useless,” Arthur says, “at doing anything other than stand there and cower behind a target.”

“At least I’m not trying to stick the pointy end of a sword into you!”

“You couldn’t if I stood still in front of you!”

_No, I couldn’t, but not for the reason you think._

“At any rate, I think the biggest challenge will be getting Gwaine outside,” Arthur continues, oblivious as usual.

“Just have Percival drag him.”

“Now that, Merlin, is the first good idea out of you I’ve heard all day.”

No sooner have they finished putting on the mail there’s a knock at the door.

“Come.”

“Sire?” Sir Leon stands at the door. “Will you be joining us?”

“In a moment,” Arthur says, pulling on his gloves.

“Will Merlin be accompanying you?”

“No. I’ve got more challenging exercises planned than trying our patience.”

“Then why are you going?”

Sir Leon conceals his snort behind a poorly attempted cough as Arthur cuffs him lightly upside the head.

“Don’t you have work to do?”

“Don’t you?”

The two knights leave, chamber door shutting loudly. Merlin sighs, shoulders slumping. Talking with Arthur never fails to wake him up a little bit but now that he’s gone his eyelids feel like chains. Dragging a hand across his face, he takes the tray of finished food back to the kitchens and returns to start making the bed. He pulls the thick red blanket off the foot and shakes it out, coughing from the dust. How blankets managed to get so dirty after one night he’ll never figure out. The movement throws him off balance, heavy head causing him to stumble into the poster. Shaking his head to clear it proves fruitless, only making him dizzier.

No. He has to finish making the bed.

Draping the blanket over the table, Merlin straightens the sheets, smooths the pillowcases, and tucks everything neatly into place. That thick, warm, soft red blanket is the last step.

There. All done.

He yawns, jaw cracking as he looks over his handiwork. The bed looks soft. Warm. Comfortable. It’s Arthur’s bed, so of course it is.

He glances out the window to see the courtyard still full of knights. Arthur’s plenty busy.

Surely…

Surely it would be alright if he just…rested a moment? Just a moment? He’s done pretty much all his other chores and Gaius isn’t asking him to do anything else.

He can rest a moment.

And who knows, maybe the mattress developed a fault last night and he needs to make sure it hasn’t.

All in a day’s work, right?

Merlin’s sleepy brain is still alert enough to know this is a bad idea, but it’s hardly the first he’s ever had and far from the worst.

Arthur won’t know. It’s not like he’s trying to share the bed _with_ Arthur in it. He just needs a moment, that’s all.

He was right, the bed is soft. It’s soft and warm and the sheets feel so comfortable and it smells like Arthur. Merlin buries his nose in the pillow and lets the sleep wash over him like sunlight.

It’s certainly the best bad idea he’s had in a while.

* * *

“Come on, Princess, you can do better than that!”

Arthur snorts, pivoting around Gwaine and clubbing him over the head with the butt of his sword.

“Ow!”

“Sorry, you were saying?”

“Go easy on him, sire,” Elyan calls, “he’s lost enough smarts from the ale.”

“You’re just out of practice,” Percival disagrees, “too used to fighting with empty jugs and chairs.”

“Maybe if the next battle is in a tavern we’ll fare better,” Lancelot says, tossing Gwaine a waterskin.

“If Gwaine’s alcohol tolerance counted as fighting skill, we could take the whole world.” Arthur claps the knight on the shoulder.

“You’re all just jealous.”

“Of what, your bar tab?”

Gwaine chucks the empty waterskin at Leon’s head. “Just because you can’t let go of your knightly honor long enough to get properly pissed doesn’t mean we all can’t.”

“Well, someone’s got to make sure you find your boots after a night out.”

Arthur laughs with the rest of the knights at Gwaine’s affronted expression. “Alright, that’s enough. Good work today.”

The knights’ taunts echo clearly down the halls, loud enough for Arthur to hear clear to his chambers.

“Well, seems you were right, Merlin,” he says, throwing his sword onto the desk, pulling off his gloves, “Gwaine was—“

He pauses, one glove halfway off.

Merlin, sweet, clumsy, girlish Merlin is curled up in his bed, head occupying only a quarter of the pillow, looking even smaller than usual swaddled in the red blanket. Approaching cautiously, he takes in the sight of his sleeping servant, eyes raking over the raven hair, the closed eyes, the sharp cheek—

Arthur shakes himself.

He reaches forward, intent on shaking Merlin awake, only to freeze when Merlin mumbles into the pillow, burying his head in the soft white. His skin is almost the same color as the sheets if only a little pinker. Arthur frowns. He knows Merlin is busy, but he’s been looking more ragged recently.

_I’ll speak to Gaius,_ he thinks as he tugs the blanket more firmly around Merlin, _he’ll know what to do._

In the meantime, it’s probably better just to let him sleep. Casting a quick look around his chambers shows they’re clean, the bed must’ve been the last step. He runs his fingers lightly through Merlin’s hair, smoothing it against his head. It’s soft.

It’s only when he’s taken off his armor as quietly as possible that he realizes he’s smiling fondly.

And he’d been so good about catching himself this morning, too.

It’s not until he’s finished his lunch that he hears the soft stirring from the bed. Glancing over, he sees Merlin’s black locks shake themselves awake.

“Sleep well?”

He’d laugh at the way Merlin startles if his servant didn’t look so utterly terrified.

“S-sire, I’m sorry, I—I didn’t mean to—“

“For god’s sake, Merlin,” Arthur says, getting up from his desk, “calm down. You’re going to make yourself pass out if you keep breathing like that.”

He steadies Merlin with a hand on either shoulder, pressing down softly and bringing his face close.

“Come on, you can do it. There’s no use panicking, there’s nothing wrong.”

It takes longer than Arthur would like for Merlin to breathe normally again, and even longer for Arthur’s own heart to settle.

“What’s wrong,” he asks quietly once it no longer looks like Merlin’s heart is about to jackknife out of his chest, “you seemed alright earlier, spouting nonsense as usual.”

“…I realized I slept longer than I meant to,” comes the mumble. Arthur frowns.

“That doesn’t explain why you panicked, you looked…” _Like someone was trying to kill you._ “…afraid.”

“I didn’t realize you were back.”

“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur huffs in exasperation, giving his friend a little shake, “that’s not it either. Come on,” he coaxes when Merlin’s mouth hardens and he looks away, “you can tell me. I won’t tease. Promise.”

Merlin’s shoulders hunch defiantly, tensing under Arthur’s hands. Arthur knows better than to try and wait it out, Merlin’s determination isn’t something to trifle with. He wasn’t exaggerating, Merlin looked like a sword was about to run him through.

_Oh._

“Merlin,” Arthur asks hesitantly, “is it me? Have I done something—“

“No!”

The shout startles Arthur. He jerks back, aware of the fire in Merlin’s eyes.

“Alright, easy,” he soothes, “but then what?”

Merlin slumps again and _gods_ Arthur would do anything if Merlin would stop looking so defeated. He’s the king of Camelot, surely he can do that.

“I’ve just been tired,” Merlin says finally, “that’s all.”

Arthur’s mouth opens in protest when he stops. Merlin looks so weary that he knows it can’t just be that, but the weight in his voice is too massive to try and prod for any further answers. If he can show Merlin he’s safe here, maybe one day he’ll tell him.

“Go back to sleep then,” he says instead, smiling a little at Merlin’s confused face. “If you’re so tired you’re not going to be of any use to me until you get some.”

Merlin nods dazedly, trying to stand until Arthur pushes him back down.

“I’ll not have you falling asleep on the stairs,” he scolds playfully, “you’d break your neck and then I would have to make do without a servant.”

“Figures,” Merlin mumbles, a small bit of light coming back into his eyes, “you’re useless.”

“Shush and go back to bed.”

“Yes, sire.”

Merlin’s a grown boy, he doesn’t need to be tucked in. At least, that’s what part of Arthur’s brain offers before he decides that Merlin’s too incompetent to do anything right now, let alone get himself into bed properly. He squashes the part that says that’s not why he’s doing this either.

Merlin’s practically nodding off in front of him, head dropping into the pillow, hands curling loosely into the blankets. Quiet as he can, Arthur returns to his desk, only to be stopped by a call of his name. He looks back to see Merlin gazing up at him.

“…thank you.”

This time, he doesn’t even try to fight the fond smile, letting it widen and plant itself firmly on his face. It’s worth it when Merlin falls back asleep with a matching one.

_Sweet dreams, you idiot._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come yell at me on tumblr while we're all in quarantine. 
> 
> https://a-small-batch-of-dragons.tumblr.com/


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